


Apartment 4Q

by FFFantasies



Category: Filthy Frank Show - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 01:08:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9575153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FFFantasies/pseuds/FFFantasies
Summary: He could say rent was too much to manage on his own, he could say he needed help, he could say English was a challenge. He could lie, he really could but what's the point? He's lonely and he finds a roommate, that's all.





	1. Apartment 4Q ft rats

Kohe’s stayed in the apartment all of a month before he decides he needs a roommate, not for the money so much although that’d be nice, but he’s fucking lonely. He goes to work at his two jobs, he comes home and listens to his neighbours shouting through the paper thin walls, then he goes to sleep. Maybe he should try to make friends first but friends are hard to make when he can barely speak English to people he’s just met.

Having a roommate would be easier than making a friend, they’d be friends by default, at least that had been his reasoning. Now Kohe thinks he was having a minor psychological break down from lingering withdrawal symptoms and being so lonely in a foreign country.

“Franklin,” he says and that’s all he says, that’s all he has to say because Frank automatically freezes and that’s nice at least. Kohe knows he shouldn’t let Frank explain himself, he knows he should tell Frank to get the fucking rats out of his damn apartment but he’s tired and he’s definitely not thinking straight.

“I found these guys in a side realm! Look, there’s one for each of my friends,” Frank starts to explain and Kohe tunes it all out because he’s just staring at the rats. There are four of the things and some of them are wearing clothes, he doesn’t know if Frank bought those, made those or found them with said clothes; he doesn’t know which idea makes him feel more tired. Someday he’ll die, he’ll straight up die and it’ll be Frank’s fault, no one but Frank’s and he’ll make sure to write it in his will so everyone knows.

“There’s even a Kohe rat!” Frank tells him and sounds far too happy saying that but he doesn’t really know what to say. He doesn’t actually know what Frank does all day other than making videos, for a while he didn’t think Frank left the apartment but after finding various weird shit around the place he knows Frank goes out. Apparently this week’s weird haul includes rats with clothes and little toys because of course it does, next Frank will bring home a body.

“Frank, no pets remember?” Kohe sighs because there is a policy about it even though everyone he knows breaks it, their neighbour in 4R has a hamster they talk to at night and Fin in 4P has a snake. There’s a family down the hall with two Pekinese puppies and the person directly below them has a stray cat they’re slowly taming and a budgie named Maxine; four rats would hardly be any worse. Still, he doesn’t actually want an apartment full of intelligent rats, especially not when the one with the miniature drones smacks it against his head.

“They won’t live here, they have actual shit to do in their own realm, they just want to visit a lot. They like me,” Frank adds and god Frank’s really going to kill him someday because there’s no reason for a grown man to sound this happy and soft and genuinely pleased that a bunch of _rats_ like him. Cute is the last word Kohe ever thought he’d use to describe Franklin of the Filth but it’s the only one he can think of right now when Frank’s all big grins and soft eyes for these rats. The rats that are scrambling around on the couch and scratching the damn thing to hell, not that it was the greatest before or anything.

“Why isn’t there a Frank rat?”

The noise Frank makes is giddy and something Kohe would’ve expected from a five year old girl not a grown man but Frank was always doing the unexpected. Honestly, intelligent rats was probably the lesser of whatever evils Frank saw out in his ‘side’ realms or whatever and Kohe was just glad they were leaving him alone. Well except for the ‘Kohe’ rat with its-his? Would the rat be a he?

Does it really matter? Kohe rat is walking towards him, stopping to sniff at the air every other step and readjusting the hood of his little hoodie. Kohe really doesn’t want to think about why the rat is missing pieces of fingers on each paw, is there a rat version of the yamaguchi-gumi? That’s just disturbing to think about.

“He’s in hiding right now, Kohe rat is the only one who knows where he is.”

The look Kohe shares with the rat version of himself is something that transcends species, realm and spoke to their very souls. “ _Franklin is an asshole. Ours though.”_

“You take care of them,” is the only thing Kohe can say as his rat version squeaks something at the slim, naked one. At least now he can say he has some more friends next time his co-workers ask and it wouldn’t even be a lie, Frank’s friends tend to be his friends. Well they will be now since these are the first friends Frank has ever brought home and they’re rats but they have personality.

“Cunt!” the slim rat squeaks.

Kohe stares at it, him. He stares at the rat that just spoke, cussed whatever.

“Cunt!” the rat squeaks again and the tiny Kohe rat smacks the slim, naked rat again. Right well, personality, they have a lot of personality.

“Fuck off cunt!”

Kohe’s really glad he has a lock on his door and that there’s no space underneath for anything to slip into his room. When he hears a crash and Frank swearing, he wonders if they’ll be the first ones to get caught for having pets in the house. 


	2. Meet the Neighbours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank that's fucking stalking

4Q - **Kohe** :  
Male, age: 24, nationality; Japanese, race; Asian

Favourite Food: strawberry grandma candy, bubble tea (wtf??? Lives on that shit), smokes and thinks I don’t know.

Allergic to: soy products, bee stings.

Status: Not a peace^lord. Not Chin Chin. Nerd. Possibly part of the yamaguchi-gumi???

Physical: Taller than me by two inches what the fuck? Emo hair. He has no eyes, just void. Missing finger pieces (he was part of the fucking yamaguchi-gumi). Always wears the same hoody, it’s Mr Robot up in this bitch.

Hobbies: Reminding me paying rent is the bare minimum expected of me. Calling me Franklin for no reason. Calling me Franklin because I fucked up. Playing the knife game. Drinking enough coffee to stop his heart. Humming classical music like a fag.

Meetings:

  * 1st – stalked me around town like a creepy fucker
  * 2nd – asked if I actually lived anywhere or just liked hanging out in an alley
  * 3rd – refused to speak English when a cop asked what we were doing in the alley.
  * 4th – said I should be his roommate because I speak Japanese and didn’t look like a serial killer.
  * 5th – asked me not to burn down the apartment and said I would be a good roommate
  * 6th – called me friend.



Notes: Clearly gay (see: hair), on the run from the yakuza, ~~my friend~~. I don’t think he actually works anywhere, he probably runs drugs or some shit for his connecs back in Japan. I also don’t think he has any other friends because he doesn’t talk about them much, I think I’m his only friend ~~I like that a lot~~ what a loser. ~~I really like him~~. He’s not a shitty roommate.

4P - **Fin** :

Gender: Male, Age: 23, Nationality; Russian? Race; White

Favourite Food: he doesn’t eat, he just drinks alcohol all day and smokes pot.  

Allergic to: basic human decency.

Status: Not a peace^lord. Not Chin Chin. Still an asshole though

Physical: he’s an ant, short as fuck, I am a god towering over him ~~actually 6’2” the cunt~~. Greaser hair, should be an extra on that gay stage musical. Blue eyes. Black hair. He should be an extra in one of those shows where the Russians are evil. Tatted like a motherfucker.

Hobbies: Complaining about me. Smoking pot. Selling pot. Smoking more cigs than pot, somehow. Shouting in some weird white people accent idfk it sounds like Chin Chin’s retarded brother. Walking around half naked with his curtains open like I can’t see that shit from the balcony. Singing like shit in the shower.

Meetings:

  * 1st – came pounding on the door at 9 in the morning because I was being too loud.
  * 2nd – was complaining to Kohe about smelling smoke like he doesn’t blaze it every hour. The whole fucking building’s getting high off your second hand smoke boy.
  * 3rd – thought I was Kohe’s brother out on bail.
  * 4th – met in the hall and tried to blame me for his stupid snake getting hurt by a rat. Well maybe if his shitty snake didn’t try to eat Max Rat, Ian Rat wouldn’t have bit the shit out of it.
  * 5th – started shouting then stopped when he saw the shotgun. Yeah Papa’s got new toys bitch. He tried to put the barrel to his head, the suicidal fucker.
  * 6th – said me and Kohe need to knock the incest shit off cause he can see us eyefucking every day.  



Notes: might be part of the brattva or however you spell that shit. I think he knows Kohe speaks English but he can’t prove it. Is exactly the kind of dumbass Chin Chin would manipulate into spying on me. Also the kind of dumbass who would tell Chin Chin to fuck off. I think he secretly wants me.

* * *

4R – **Rob** (according to Kohe but I think he’s fucking with me):

Gender: ???, Age: 18-30, Nationality; ??? Race; South East Asian (according to Fin but he’s definitely fucking with me)

Favourite Food: NA.  

Allergic to: NA

Status: NA. Possibly Chin Chin. Possibly peace^lord. Possibly a ghost

Physical: NA

Hobbies: NA

Meetings: I have never met them

Notes: I don’t think anyone fucking lives here. I don’t see anyone, even when I try to peak through the stupid black out curtains. There are noises through the walls sometimes but it never sounds like a person. This apartment is probably haunted but Kohe says someone lives here. Not even the rats have been able to get an eye on this guy.

* * *

4T – **Gabriel aka AI** :

Gender: Male, Age: 23. Nationality; Mexican American. Race: White Latino

Favourite Food: I have never seen him eating.

Allergic to: Humanity.

Status: Not a peace^lord. Not Chin Chin. Possibly related to the Zuckbot.

Physical: Average height. Looks like he should be wearing a flower crown to throw off suspicion. Glasses to throw off suspicion. Is a literal android from the future. Auburn hair. Brown eyes.

Hobbies: Getting in fights. Writing, singing and sharing songs with internet. Making soap. Talking to plants about his day. Contacting other future androids and co-ordinating attacks.

Meetings:

  * 1st – told me I was weird for wearing shades inside then asked if I was blind.
  * 2nd – asked if Kohe had the landlord’s number then stared until I went to ask.
  * 3rd – thought I was Kohe’s brother out on bail, most likely Fin’s fault.
  * 4th – wanted to know how I got on the lease when the landlord’s a bitch at letting roommates be a thing.



Notes: definitely a robot from the future sent to spy on us; I’ve heard friends calling him AI. He also sings about Dark Gods when he thinks everyone is asleep or not listening; future predictions. Thinks I’m not onto him, I fought the zuckbot, I can fucking fight you too!

* * *

5E – **Marcella** :

Gender: Female, Age: 24, Nationality; American, Race; Half Asian, Half Black.

Favourite Food: she eats nothing but ramen and drinks coffee.

Allergic to: human interaction before first cup.

Status: Possible peace^lord. Not Chin Chin. He’s too much of an asshole to be this quiet.

Physical: shorter than me, as it should be. Dresses like she’s going to a funeral, always, I think it might be mine. Bright pink hair. Wears matching pink contacts.

Hobbies: she’s working on her phD, there is no such thing as a social life.

Meetings:

  * 1st – 7th ; Has never spoken to me, always on her phone with her girlfriend, boyfriend, both??? Idfk.



Notes: possible peace^lord in disguise, roast lord? She’s never spoken to me but rat surveillance has her pegged as a neutral party. She lives directly above us but her hours are strange enough that she doesn’t hear any video making. Chad Rat thinks she’s actually part of the mob, more research needed to come to conclusion.

* * *

Kohe really has no idea what to think as he thumbs through the pages, reading the little notes and squinting at the scratched out words. He knew Frank was hiding from someone but he had no idea Frank had been stalking their neighbours basically. He also hadn’t known the rats were in on it although he should’ve expected it all things considered.

“Franklin,” he sighs, pinching his nose as he notices the rest of the binder full of pages. There had to be one for every person living in the apartment complex and he has no idea how Frank found out any of this shit.

“You really don’t know who lives next door?” he mutters to himself, fitting the pages back into their places and closing the folder. He just wanted to borrow a coat, all he wants is a coat because his is still wet from washing and he has to find this. Kohe doesn’t know if he should ask Frank about it, clearly this so some kind of phobia thing, it probably makes Frank feel safe enough to stay here.

If there’s a single chance of Frank running though, running if he can’t be sure the people in their building aren’t going to hurt him, then Kohe will gladly forget about this. Frank’s right, for once, Kohe doesn’t actually have any friends except for him. Kohe knows people, of course he does, but he doesn’t consider any of them friends, and isn’t sure he considers Frank just a friend anymore but he’ll leave that alone for now.

He finds a coat in the closet, a little too short but it doesn’t really matter, it’s not that cold yet. He’s careful to put everything back where he found it, the binder under the pillow, the shirts in the closet and shoes all over the floor.

If it means Frank staying with him, Kohe’s willing to accept actual criminal activity. He’s got no room to argue anyway.


	3. Settling In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shut up and cuddle, Franklin

Frank’s pretty fucking sure their neighbours are part of the Russian mob and regular mob respectively but he can’t fucking prove it. He’s so fucking sure but he can’t tap their phone lines and Kohe’s threatened him with no real food for a week if he tries to break into their neighbours’ apartments. He’s tried using the rats but they’ve got their own shit to do most of the time anyway, plus Kohe rat always gives him this disappointed look and he can’t take it anymore.

Today he’s actually up before nine and he’s sprawled out on Kohe’s bed because Kohe’s at work and Frank likes his bed better anyway. He tells himself that it’s because Kohe has a double and he has a single because then he doesn’t have to think about why he loves burying his face in Kohe’s pillows and just breathing as deep as he can. He tells himself he likes to come in here because there’s no window letting in obscene amounts of light and he can actually relax so he pretend it’s not because Kohe’s room has the best acoustics in the house.

If he listens close, he can hear Fin in his apartment talking to someone, probably the fucking snake. Frank hates that snake and no it’s not because Kohe goes and pets the snake like it’s no big deal to be touching a scaly reptile who’s longer than his arm. No Frank hates the fucking snake because he can’t _see_ it, he can’t hear anything but the slithering of scales along the floor when Fin lets it out or the hissing when it’s eating.

He doesn’t _see_ , not really. Chin Chin took his eyes after all but the ones he got in return aren’t complete bullshit. He can see in black and white if it’s bright enough, and he can see further than most people would be able to granted there’s enough light. He wants to say he can see heat but it’s not really seeing, not exactly but it’s as close as he can get to describing it and it’s great for going into crowded places. He can hear better too, like right now he can hear Fin baby talking his little devil spawn and he can hear someone coming up the stairs from the ground floor.

The snake is cold blooded so Frank already can’t see it normally and because Fin only brings it out in the hallway where the light’s too shit, Frank can’t see it otherwise. He doesn’t even know what colour it is because seeing shit in black and white is all good but it’s bullshit when a cold blooded thing enters his perception. He knows the snake is either black or white but he can’t tell because it’s also cold blooded.

He looks at sometimes and he sees white but then he’ll pick up on the heat signature and it’ll turn black because it’s fucking cold blooded. He can’t get a good enough read on it to tell if the heat he’s seeing is really black or just very dark grey and god when it’s out in the hallway at night when the light’s flickering, Frank sees it switching from white to black and back again.

Of course he’d never tell Fin that, or Kohe either because you know pride. He hates admitting to any flaws, faults or weaknesses and having to ask what colour Fin’s damn snake is would be a weakness.

“Fuck,” he breathes, whipping off his shitty shades and rubbing at his eyes. Fin’s baby talking his monster snake in some weird white people language, Frank thinks it’s Russian but who the fuck even knows?

The rats are off today and he’s home alone until six for the earliest because Kohe’s picking up a longer shift today, something about the big shipment coming in and all the delivery boys needing to be there. Frank’s pretty sure Kohe’s running drugs or weapons or something illegal but he doesn’t really give a fuck, Kohe’s a good guy and Frank trusts him not to do some stupid shit that’ll get the apartment burned down. He’s also pretty sure Kohe knows ow to take care of himself, running away or fighting, Frank has faith in him.

He presses harder against his eyes until he should be seeing universes or galaxies or whatever it was when you pressed your hands to your eyes but he doesn’t, his eyes don’t work like that anymore. The scars are smoother at least, easy to cover up with a little bit of gay makeup and his glasses, he remembers when they were still red and raw and itched like a fucker. Now they’re smooth and cool to the touch even if they still itch every so often and he hates the way they feel rubbing against his glasses but what can he do?

Stop wearing them obviously but he thinks he’d probably have some priests breaking down his door if he did. Not to mention Kohe would kick him out, maybe, he thinks, he isn’t sure.

Frank stays there for god hours? He isn’t sure, he’s got his hands pressed to his face and he’s got his nose pressed against Kohe’s pillow while Fin talks about some guy he’s into that lives one floor down. Apparently this guy’s name is Vincent and he’s fucking huge, he’s also completely blind in one eye and sex on legs, according to Fin at least and Frank tries to remember everything Fin’s saying so he can add it to his data files. Maybe he can send the rats to search the apartment when they get back from filming their video in rat Australia, he thinks it has something to do with giant dust bunnies.

There’s another person on the stairs, wait no, two people on the stairs and they’re talking too quiet for him to hear what they’re saying but Frank doesn’t really bother. He prefers to spy on these people, personal conversations aren’t enough to figure out if they’re Chin Chin or not although he’s pretty sure no one knows he’s here; he’s been hiding his tracks pretty fuckin well if he did say so himself.

The people are taking their time coming up the stairs but they eventually get to the fourth floor and Frank realises it’s Kohe and someone he doesn’t know, he’s good at voices and he can’t place this one. Fuck it sounds familiar but where has he heard this one before? Who even are they that Kohe’s speaking English with them? Kohe tends to speak more Japanese than English and it’s one of the reasons he asked Frank to be his roommate.

“Franku?”

Frank’s so caught up in trying to figure out who the person is that he doesn’t realise Kohe’s in the apartment until he’s already in their living room/kitchen and by then he’s already caught. At least the room is dark and he has the split second between Kohe opening the door and seeing him on the bed to jam his shades on his face. He’s lucky this time, he’s wearing a pair of boxers and a vest, which is better than just the boxers like usual.

“Did you burn your bed?” Kohe asks dead pan and it’s too dark for Frank to make out his expression but he knows which one it is. It’s the one with the lips turned down and the flared nostrils and the narrowed eyes even though he usually can’t see those.

“I spilled water on it,” is the lie he always has for if Kohe catches him and it’s believable too, plus it doesn’t say he didn’t burn the bed, “how come you’re off so early?”

There are a few seconds where Kohe tries to decide whether he believes the story then he must think fuck it because he’s flopping down on the bed next to Frank…which is totally fine. He’s not wearing his gloves so his hands must not even be hurting today and his hair flops out of his eyes so Frank can almost see them in the dark. Kohe’s…pretty, handsome, hot? He’s not sure which word he wants to use, and he’s soft spoken and withdrawn and shy but there’s something about him that just says ‘back off’. Frank likes that about him.

“There was a problem with the shipment, we got less than expected,” Kohe mumbles, pressing he back of his wrist against his eyes and sighing. Frank tries not to look at the edge of a scar he can just see, he knows there are delicate veins and arteries and shit in the hand and Kohe’s scars are thick meaning the cuts were deep. Did whoever do that to his hands know what they were doing when they slit his hands open?

“I have tomorrow off,” Kohe sighs like it’s the worst thing he can think of but Frank perks up, it’s rare for Kohe to get any days off and he knows what he wants to do with this one.

“We should go out tomorrow, I wanna show you some of the realms,” Frank adds when Kohe turns to look at him with the ‘I’m thinking about Franklin-ing you but continue I’m interested’ look. Frank’s looking into getting all those looks patented and copyrighted.

“Yeah sure,” Kohe answers after a beat and Frank wants to fist pump, he gets the whole day to show Kohe how cool he is because he’s still got the mad connecs. They can use the dirt bikes to get out to the grasslands and then they can use the helli to head to the battleground, or close maybe since it’s technically monoxide 6.

“Who did you walk up with anyway?” he asks as an afterthought because he’s already planning out which realms are safe enough to visit and which ones he can take Kohe to.

“Rob, they have the day too.”

Frank blinks, thinks about what he just heard and.

“Son of a cunt!” he shouts and tries to get off the bed when a hand wraps around his waist, holding him there.

“No Kohe I need to see them! I need to know who the fuck they are!” he whines but he’s not trying to get away, Kohe just throws a leg over him and drags him in close.

“Franklin, I had a long day, so you’re going to stay here and you’re going to be quiet,” Kohe hisses, tightening his grip until Frank shuts up, “good, now shhh.”

Frank knows it’s because Kohe is a very tactile person, that he likes cuddling and touching and just hugs in general. And he knows that it’s to stop him from bothering their neighbour who’s at home right now, during the day and who he’s never seen. He knows that but he still enjoys the touch, closes his eyes and enjoys Kohe holding him close and tight. It’s so much better than lying here and smelling his pillow


	4. Friendly Neighbours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shitty days are to be spent in a haze, no exceptions

Another fucking shipment down the drain and Kohe knows he can’t help it and he knows it’s not his fault but he’s still fucking frustrated. He’s not the one in charge of this run, he’s not even the direct contact, but fuck if he doesn’t take it personally; he’s obsessive and it’s always been one of his worse traits. What’s even worse was that he got the call to come in today, after he’d already planned with Frank to go visiting another realm or whatever it was, so they’d cancelled those plans but now what was the fucking point?

He’s on edge, anxious and doesn’t want to deal with any of the shit, he doesn’t want to think for a while so he, he takes a little detour before his apartment. Fin’s usually already at the dinner by now so he’s lucky when he knocks and the door opens, opens to a very disgruntled looking Fin with all the tattoos on display but that’s normal. Kohe’s tempted to make some sly joke about Russian drug dealers and tattoos but he’s too keyed up to think the whole thing through.

“You here to forget your personal problems again kid?” Fin asks around his cigarette because he always knows when Kohe’s here for a hit, most of the time he knows exactly which but it’s early. Kohe does a mental tally of how high he wants to get and how long he wants it to last before he answers because he’s careful about this. He’s been on harder shit before, he still feels a tingle of need and disgust whenever he sees a needle, so he knows he needs to be careful. He’s not an addict, not anymore, but it wasn’t really something he could ever get over either.

“Xanax, 10 maybe,” Kohe answers because he has enough weed stashed away and he likes to have a stock pile of pills, the pills he can take whenever and usually does. He’s pretty sure if he ever tried, he could get an actual prescription for the drug, because he’s fucking depressed and has anxiety out the ass but he’s not going to a fucking therapist. Call it cultural stigma or fucking pride he didn’t give a shit.

“You’re fucked mate,” Fin sighs but he lets Kohe in even though he could just snatch whatever and bring it back out. Nearly everybody on the floor comes to Fin for something, Kohe knows Gabriel shows up weekly and he knows Rob stops by whenever they need to which can be every day or every other month. Frank’s the only one who doesn’t although that could be because Frank’s an alcoholic who does enough risky shit to get an adrenaline high every other hour.

“The fuckers cleared me out stressin’ for their exams, can’t say I blame ‘em but you’re lucky I even got shit left,” Fin complains while Kohe just stares at him but right. Most of the people living here were college students, either under or post grad, Kohe forgets that sometimes. He should’ve been with them, cramming, freaking out, needing the drugs because he had a big exam and _not_ because a shipment of illegal weapons got seized by the police but that was life.

“Thank you,” he says when Fin hands him a plastic baggie and he hands over a roll of money; he always keeps it like that now, each roll is two hundred in tens. Fin never asks because he already knows, it’s how they met actually, when Kohe first came to New York on the run from Australia. They’d had a mutual friend in one of Fin’s customers, the same man who got Kohe into the weapons running business after he found out what Kohe had done and who he’d done it to. Fin never had to ask because he knew, Fin had even told him about the apartment next door being available although he might be regretting that now because of Frank.

“It ain’t my business, but you should probably tell your boyfriend before shit comes to bite you in the ass, маленькая мышь,” Fin warns as he taps some ash into one of his dozens of ashtrays and fixes Kohe with a look. This is their latest argument, telling Frank about what he did. Kohe doesn’t want to, Frank’s already paranoid enough thinking he was in the yakuza, even if technically was associated with them. Fin thinks he should tell Frank so ‘the fucker would stop’ stop what though, Kohe’s not sure.

“Thank you, Fin,” Kohe repeats, rolling his eyes but smiling as he leaves. Fin only calls him that Russian nickname when he’s worried things might fuck up, ‘Little Mouse’ because no matter how good the mouse was, the snake was always watching or something like that. Fin wouldn’t tell Frank though, Kohe asked him not to and Fin respects him enough to keep the secret. For a while at least and Kohe might have to get Frank to calm down on the stalking and spying otherwise Fin might say something when he’s angry, even implying something would be enough to get Frank on his case.

The apartment is definitely empty when he lets himself back in and Kohe vaguely wonders where Frank went, it doesn’t really matter though. He just closes his door behind himself and usually he would take off most of his clothes, they always made him feel too hot but not today. Today he feels too cold and he’s pretty sure it’ll last through the high; it’s the kind of cold that goes straight to his bones after all and it’s part of what’s making him this fucked up.

So he’s spread out on his bed fully clothed as he sorts through his stash of pills and pre-rolled joints; he prefers to prepare everything as soon as he gets it but it’s harder with the pills. Fin always has Xanax bars and those are easy to divide up into how much he wants because they come pre-measured. Kohe shakes out two already cut pieces, each one is five hundred milligrams and crushes them up with the bottom of the glass he always keeps in the room. He used to keep a business card for some lawyer too but he lost it somewhere so now he uses his switchblade to separate the powder into two neat lines.

He smokes the joint first though, after he puts everything away, he lights it up and lets it burn for a bit before putting it to his mouth. He’s always surprised by how different this drug is, there’s no instant relief, no ache that calms down the second it hits his system and it’s a fucking blessing. Weed is nothing like syabu, it takes its time to curl around his lungs, to maze his brain fuzzy and doesn’t start any kind of hunger in him other than the most literal.

He’s halfway through when the anxiety starts prickling again, starts racing through his veins again but he’s used to it. When he first met Fin, Kohe tried just the weed and ended up a shivering, panicking mess on his bedroom floor, he only thought about mixing drugs when he heard Fin and Rob talking it. Now he knows exactly how to make it work for him, weed kicks his anxiety into overdrive but Xanax brings him back down, that’s what it’s for anyway.

He snorts the first line that’s laid on his bedside table and waits a few minutes until his hands stop shaking and he stops wanting to pace up and down the room. When the high starts to mellow out again, Kohe brings the joint back to his lips and smokes the rest of it. He wonders if Frank will get back soon because he’s always wanted to try sucking a dick while high, or having sex on a whole. He wonders if Frank would do this with him some time, they already smoke and drink together, and Frank’s probably adventurous enough to try it once.

Kohe almost doesn’t snort the second line because he already feels good from the first and he knows he could skip it over entirely but the high wouldn’t last as long. If he stays like this, leaves the second line alone, the high’ll fade in maybe four hours but he wants more than that. He almost sneezes after wards but he doesn’t and he flops back onto his bed feeling like he’s on a cloud. He doesn’t hear the front door slamming shut and doesn’t hear his own opening until Frank’s flipping on the light and saying something and oh, he didn’t close the door did he?

“How come you’re home again?” Frank asks, or maybe he shouts but Kohe isn’t really listening to the words, he’s too busy looking at Frank’s lips. He watches the way they part around words, how pink they are, they look very sweet like cherries or strawberries or something just as luscious.

“-even listening?” and Kohe blinks dumbly for a few seconds before he smiles, slow and wide. Frank’s not wearing his hair and his hair’s all tousled, he’s also not wearing anything but a pair of sweat pants that are hanging very low on his hips. Kohe tunes out whatever Frank has to say anything because he’s busy looking at the cut of Frank’s hips, the jut of his hips and the dark hair leading down. Kohe licks his lips at the thought, he wonders what Frank would taste like in his mouth, how big was he, would he fuck Kohe’s face until he came all over it or would he prefer to cum down his throat?

Kohe’s on his feet before he even realises what he’s doing, he’s a little unsteady but he’s still upright and smiling brightly at Frank. Frank who’s staring at him confused, and who’s nipples are a delicious shade of pink and Kohe wants to suck on both of them, leave them peaked and wet as he makes his way down.

“ _Can I kiss you_?” he asks in Japanese because fuck English, taking the last step he needs to to get in close with Frank. He rests one hand on Frank’s chest, right over his heart and god Frank’s so warm, Kohe wants to snuggle up in that warmth and have Frank fuck him slow and sloppy. He probably won’t be able to right now though, he’s too loopy but sometime soon, he needs to make sure it’s sometime soon.

“Okay?” and he doesn’t hear the question in it, it’s permission but it’s confused permission. Frank doesn’t know why Kohe would want to kiss him and that’s a shame, such a shame, he’ll fix that right now.

He throws his arms over Frank’s shoulders to make sure Frank isn’t going anywhere and leans in for a kiss before Frank takes it back. Frank tastes like coffee and syrup, sweet and thick and Kohe likes this taste, it’s a very good combination and he’s licking it off Frank’s tongue before Frank even realises. He wonders what he must taste like, weed definitely, chocolate maybe from the donut he ate for breakfast. Then the kiss gets deep, Frank’s kissing back and he has both hands on Kohe’s ribs, wrapping around his back and holding him perfectly.

The kiss is slow though, slow as molasses and twice as sweet because Kohe’s taking his time and he can’t go very fast right now. The kiss is like his high, he’s savouring every little piece of it, taking his time to breathe heavy through his nose and enjoy the feeling of Frank’s hands on him. Frank lets him lead, sticks to the pace he set and seems to enjoy himself based on the breathy little moans he keeps making.

God Kohe wants to know what kind of sounds Frank would make while fucking. They’d probably be even better than these.

“Kohe, Kohe, Kohe,” Frank whispers against his lips, pulls away a little but can’t seem to help himself before’s leaning in again for another kiss. Kohe really hates having to be the responsible one here, especially since he’s the one who’s high, but he breaks the kiss and hold’s Frank away while they both breathe heavy. They’re breathing so heavy and already so close that every breath presses their chest together and Kohe can feel Frank’s frantic heartbeat. It makes him happier than it should to feel but he doesn’t really care about that.

“I-shit, I have shit in another realm, I gotta go,” Frank mutters, trying to sound angry, probably is but just comes across as needy with those little gasps between every other word. Kohe really wants to fuck him, or be fucked by him, he’d love either but it will have to wait, it will wait because he can see the half chub in Frank’s pants.

“Mhmm, okay, I understand,” Kohe says even as he leans in, “but one for the road.”


	5. Present yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Franklin, you're supposed to be filthy not sweet. What the fuck is this?

Kohe doesn’t know whether this is a joke or not because Frank’s smiling, he’s smiling like a little kid in a candy store all bright enthusiasm and expectancy but he’s also holding out a piece of glass. He looks down at it, at Kohe’s hands and then Kohe’s face, and he does it again until Kohe gets the hint. At this point it’s strange for him to wear his gloves at home but today’d been difficult and he’d wanted that extra layer between himself and the world.

He barely trembles as he peels off the gloves, his breath doesn’t even catch when his scars do and he doesn’t press his lips together when he flexes as many of his fingers as he can. He shoves the gloves in his hoody pocket and Frank doesn’t hesitate to pull of his glasses too, even though Kohe didn’t ask. It’s the little things that make him like Frank so much, how few shits he gives and how considerate he can be, it’s an odd mix but Kohe likes it.

The glass is dark brown but it’s smooth and feels cool when Frank drops it into the hand he hesitantly holds out to him. Well okay, not as smooth as he thought it was because the surface is rough like a stone but all the edges are worn down and rounded off. When he holds it up to the light, the middle glows a warm hazel colour and he could almost believe this was some kind of magic jewel but no, it’s just a piece of glass.

“W-where did you get this?” he asks a little helplessly, is this part of some prank video? Is the glass actually some magic thing from another realm? Kohe doesn’t fucking know but Frank looks even happier when he closes his fingers over it so it has to be important.

“From the river! The one that looks like your eyes, I used to keep the nice things I found and this was my favourite,” Frank explains and Kohe thinks his heart breaks a little bit. Frank had told him about the place he was from, all half dead grass and stunted trees like the Serengeti but always in twilight. He’d told Kohe all about how he’d run from the animals chasing after him and how he’d scrounge around for weapons and food and water and how he’d crawl into dead, hollow trees to sleep.

Kohe can just imagine Frank at this river he’s heard so much about, the one river that never ran dry even when it hadn’t rained in weeks. He can see Frank laying down by the river bank or maybe he’s in a tree hanging over the river but he’s got this piece of glass in his hand, fiddling with it and rubbing it against his cheek. Frank likes the way things feel and Kohe knows why Frank kept this because it does feel nice to run his fingers over.

This was Frank’s favourite ‘nice thing’ in some shit show realm and he’s giving it to Kohe…his heart hurts. Kohe can feel it, sharp and dull at the same time because oh god, Frank’s supposed to be an asshole but this is, fuck. This is exactly the same as Frank’s files on everyone in the building, it’s-it’s-it’s like a child who’s been passed around between parents and step parents, trying to find one person who doesn’t leave them. A child who finally finds the one adult who actually cares about them and now they have to show their love in some tangible way otherwise they might lose that hard won affection.

Kohe hates that Frank has to feel like that, he hates that Frank’s nice thing is a piece of old glass and he hates how hesitantly happy Frank looks right now but that’s not Frank’s fault. Kohe, Kohe thinks he might love Frank, when they curl on his bed because Kohe doesn’t want to sleep alone or when they drink together and speak all the Japanese they want. Kohe thinks he may love Frank more than he ever loved anyone else in his life, not his father or mother, not the girls who thought he was so adorable and smart, not the men who promised him nice things if he just did _this_ for them, **_that_** for them.

Kohe presses the glass against his face, rubs it against his cheek and feels another part of his heart break when Frank’s smile lights up his face. Then Frank starts laughing and his heart feels so light, Kohe giggles quietly then louder when Frank’s eyes catch his and they’re almost pink with how bright they are. Frank hugs him and Kohe throws an arm around Frank’s shoulders and they’re dropping.

They’re laughing together, holding each other and their foreheads are touching. Kohe can see the pale white scars and Frank could take his hand up so easy but he doesn’t. They’re so comfortable together and Kohe knows he loves Frank and that even if Frank doesn’t realise, Frank loves him back. Kohe has his favourite nice thing after all, that’s pretty freaking important.

Sure he’s sitting in Frank’s lap and Frank’s got his arms supporting his back and Kohe’s pressing a soft kiss to Frank’s cheek but that’s normal stuff. They’re always like this, always touching each other, always accepting whatever the other one does but this is different because Frank’s. Kohe’s fingers curl around the glass so hard they ache but he doesn’t care, it’s a good ache, important even.

“T-thank you for the n-nice thing,” he murmurs as he kisses Frank’s cheek.

* * *

“For the love of God, Joe, just tell she to fuck off,” they sigh as Joe tells them about the latest call from his ex-wife and all her wonderful friends. They’re honestly so fucking fed up of it, okay so they’re Joe’s daughter’s friend, so Joe’s about sixteen years older than them, so fucking what? They’re both adults, consenting adults and it’s not like they’ve known Joe since they were a kid or anything, in fact they were already twenty when they first met Joe so fuck that noise.

“I can’t, Mickey’s got me working on getting Goofy transferred from solitary and I’m this close to screaming at that crazy fuck,” Joe groans and they sigh again. He lost the case, how could he win when his fucking client confessed and gave a guilty verdict? They thought maybe that would be the last of it but no, Mickey’s got Joe on it like there’s a chance of getting Goofy out before he’s a hundred and fifty-six.

Joe’s been working himself sick over it and now Brenda decides to call him and give him more grief over it all. They’d already offered to vandalise the bitch’s house, maybe steal her fucking car and crash it but he’d thrown that idea out when he reminded them that he would have to pay for it. Divorces were literal dog shit, even if you’re a lawyer apparently.

“Listen, I have class til nine tomorrow but I can get a drop early Friday morning. You can do the whole searching for precedent thing and I could help you with the whole liquid lunch thing, sound good?” they ask adding another paragraph to the fucking essay that was due in tomorrow’s nine pm class. Why they leave all this shit til the last minute they’ll never know but at least it’s easy to get work done when they’re talking to Joe.

Might have something to do with it being close to three and both of them being more than a little drunk but that isn’t important. What’s important is them listening to the sound of Joe taking another drink from his half empty bottle of…something or the other.

“Y-yeah, yeah, I wasn’t heading into the office tomorrow anyway,” he answers when he realises they asked a question, okay maybe more than just a little drunk. They catch themselves nodding first then hum in agreement, sure they’ll be half sleeping on themselves that early but they have the whole weekend free and they can spend it at Joe’s. IG probably won’t mind, she’s got some new boyfriend of the week and at least this one is nice enough to take her places.

“Right so, what else Goofy do to get put in solitary? Anything after making the shank and stabbing the cellmate?” they add because might as well. Sure they could ask about other things but none of those are really three am conversation material, three am is always reserved for bitching and comfort. Right now it’s for talking about clinically insane clients and prison systems, or it should be.

“Hold on, some fucking body trying to break down my door,” they mutter when the knocking doesn’t stop and what in the fuck? It’s literally three am in the morning on a Thursday, sure this place has some weirdos living in it but none of them were out and about at three. Well no, that’s not true, they think maybe the new guy next door might be this crazy but they don’t know because they’ve never met.

“He just laughs!” Joe’s still shouting, almost hysterical at this point and it probably doesn’t matter if they step away for a bit and there’s no chance they’re taking their phone with them. The knocking stops a second before they pull open the door and what the actual hell? They look up and down the hall, maybe whoever is hiding around the corner but no, there’s no one and there aren’t any doors slamming shut.

They’re about to slam **_their_** door when they see the envelope on the floor and it’s addressed to them? Well almost, it’s got their nickname on it but that’s okay, there aren’t any other Robs in the building after all and this has got to be a prank. They poke the letter with their foot and nothing jumps out so might as well, right?

They’re turning the letter over when Joe starts shouting about Mickey’s latest sexual assault case, something about screaming ‘wanna have anal sex’ at random women. Their essay is only half done and there are still the sources to add, Joe’s half crying but he’s really drunk so that’s normal and they’re squinting at the handwriting in the letter that came in the envelope.

“ _Rob. If you’re not a fucking ghost, I want you to have this. Kohe told me you exist but I need proof and if this is gone when I check then I have proof._

_ps this is Franklin of the Filth aka Kohe’s roommate.”_

Well that’s something at least, Kohe’s new roommate that everyone complained about but in that tolerant way. They look in the envelope and yup, there’s something else in it and they’re only half hesitant to check what it is. Curiosity’s a bitch though so they end up dumping the thing in their hand and oh, well it’s nice.

“And he won’t fucking listen when I tell him to stop violating the restraining order!” Joe yells and they shake their head but they’re back in their seat anyway. They reread the last line of the essay and try to pick back up the thread of thought even though they’re still only paying half attention to it. The other half is divided between Joe and the thing in their hand, it’s probably silver but it’s broken so it’s mostly just trash.

There’s one wing and the loop for the pendant to string onto whatever necklace but the silver bird is missing its head and feet, really it’s just a torso and one extended wing. They wonder where the fuck Franklin got this thing and why he gave it to them but it’s nice, in a weird way. He gave them something, a little token of what? Neighbourly friendship? They don’t know exactly but it’s a nice gesture and they kind of want to meet him now…maybe next week.  

“Your clients are assholes hun,” they tell Joe and he grumbles in approval. They can’t wait to hug him and hold his head in their lap, also fuck him, but that’s secondary, mostly.

* * *

“Змея и мышь.”

He was a shadow, delicately weaving in between scenes and situations like the secretive person he always has been; at least for as long as Finnegan knew him to be. He was never a part of the circle, instead he always clipped the outer ring to keep himself anonymously in sync with the roles of his comrades without ever suffering the same consequences of them. Strategic in both his words and actions within their giant chain of operations, effortless almost.

“Хищник и жертва.”

It’s almost a dance of consequence, and so far the boy hasn’t screwed up his routine. A good motivator is being told you’ll be gutted like the many fish that reside along the bay you take stock from and thrown onto the rocks like you never existed. It really keeps the boys thin around these parts and scares them into obedience as well, but this one wasn’t…even remotely showing any emotion on most days. He couldn’t really; kid had too much hair covering those eyes to really project the majority of his facial expressions. Maybe he’s got a pretty set of eyes that drag you into the pool of his broken soul and then you fully understand why he has become the way he is, at least that what most people tend to think.

“Жизнь в гармонии.”

But there was the concept of thoughts and exaggeration people let sit inside the ever curious part of their brain, and the truth that permanently resides on the inside of your own eyelids that you can’t escape. No matter how much this boy may look weak and defenseless to the eyes of others, Finnegan will always know what he’s really capable of. 

Finnegan has known Kohe for the better part of a year, he was the reason Kohe even lived here, in this building he means. Mutual acquaintances and cheap rent were great motivators after all, same as drugs and guns, they go hand in hand most days. He had wondered about the strange Japanese boy back then, how could such a slim dream thing hold his own here in this foreign country but now he knew. Sometimes the mouse could play the snake’s game better than the snake and sometimes the snake had no reason to hurt the mouse.

Strange how this snake and mouse could live in harmony even if they were meant to be predator and prey, maybe it was because they were not animals. He wasn’t sure about that but nothing was straight forward with Kohe, not his past and shyness, not his cool anger and his ‘ _profession’_. Compared to the other contradictions of his life, Franklin was maybe not the biggest one Kohe had ever made which said a lot of Kohe’s life and who Franklin really was.

Personally, Finnegan hated the son of a bitch. He was cocky, arrogant, loud as fuck when people wanted to  _sleep_ ; Franklin was a homophobic, racist and sexist piece of shit. Finnegan did not and does not understand how Kohe could stand this man who never shut up and was generally a horrible person. Still, he guessed loneliness and depression had their part to play and Kohe was probably one of the most isolated people he knew and he knew himself after all.

Kohe had left his home, twice; Japan and Australia. Kohe had abandoned the people he knew twice, uprooted himself and thrown himself into the unknown and the uncertainty had left its mark. There was a reason Kohe had no friends even though he was desperate for human interaction on a deeper level and it was only two parts fear of repetition.

Finnegan tilted his head back and blew a nice thick stream of smoke at the ceiling, Kohe was one of the few people he could tolerate on a daily basis and Finnegan cared about this boy. He was not sure about this Franklin character who showed up one day, was Kohe’s roommate one day and unknown to them all. Even Marcella who kept tabs on everyone living here did not know him, even Rob whose hours meant listening in on many private conversations had no idea who he was. Franklin was a ghost and Finnegan was not far from exorcising his rude ass.

“Get the fuck out here, you Russian fuck!”

Closer than he thought perhaps. Finnegan glared at the ceiling, ashing his cigarette in one of his many ashtrays and wondering how long it would take for Franklin to leave. If he stayed quiet as a mouse and stopped himself from flinging something at the door, how long until Kohe’s ‘friend’ left?

“The rats told me you’re there.”

What if he maimed this asshole slightly? Would Kohe care if his friend came home with more burns and puncture wounds than he’d left with? Eh it was probably something Kohe accounted for, right?

“Fine, I’m leaving it out here. Marble for you, metal for snake and feather for Vincent,” and that was probably the strangest thing Franklin had said to him yet but at least he wasn’t shouting anymore. Finnegan would leave whatever it was out there, let Franklin come back outside and see Finnegan didn’t give a shit. Maybe then he would stop making videos at ass fuck o’clock in the morning or middle of the day when good people slept off hangovers and long nights.

Honestly, what did Kohe see in this jackass?

Finnegan smoked another two ciggies before he started wondering what the hell Franklin meant by metal for snake. And what was marble? Feather for Vincent? Was that supposed to be some kind of racist shit against Native Americans?

“What a twat,” Finnegan muttered as he pushed himself to his feet, of course, even when he wasn’t around Franklin was an annoyance. He should have complained to the landlord the last time the man was in the building, cite noise violations or something just as petty, as if he wasn’t harboring an illegal pet and selling drugs from his own apartment.

When he wrenched open the door, Finnegan almost expected something to hit him in the face because it was exactly the kind of thing Franklin would engineer but there was nothing. Nothing but a plastic bag with a piece of paper taped to it with Finnegan’s name written in big bold letters, well ‘Fin’ but it was still him.

He should throw the bag in the trash, not even look at the note but his curiosity got the better of him and he was pouring the bag onto his coffee table. A blue marble rolled out first, and nearly rolled off before he caught it, next was a bit of shiny metal and last was an ink black feather that shimmered purple and green in the light. Rubbish, Franklin had left him rubbish, why was he surprised?

He made to throw everything back in the plastic bag when he spotted the note again and there were more words on it.

_Marble; Fin. Kohe told me your eyes were blue so here’s a blue thing._

_Metal; snake. It’s wavy too_

_Feather; Vincent. He’s the only smart one with black and white hair that I can see right. He gets the second nicest thing._

…

Fucking.

Finnegan tossed the objects between his two hands, rolling the marble around between slender fingers and examining the feather with furrowed brows and his usual broody expression. Paying close attention to the metal slate that’s meant to somehow excite his cold blooded, statue of a ball python named “ _Tchotchke_ ”.

_ps if you don’t want them, just leave them by the door_

“Buy me dinner next time, сука!” he shouted as loud as he could just in case Franklin was listening because he needed to know he wasn’t winning. He needed to know Finnegan wasn’t going to pussy out of whatever strange emotional game he was playing, Fin was going to win so fucking take that Frank.

“This isn’t even my eye colour! It’s steel blue, cunt!”


	6. Thunderstorm Tranquility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Kohe gets mad, he stays quiet. When he gets angry, he doesn't shout. When he's furious, he'll look you dead in the eye and say not a word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to an artist whom I love very much [nawh](http://nawh.tumblr.com/), you make me want to be a better writer so I can do better tributes to your art. Thank you so much for all of it. 
> 
> Every link will lead you to the inspiration art, I highly suggest you click all the links.

My knuckles ache but I shake it off, my knees twinge as I stand, popping and cracking all at once but the pain is grounding. The man is breathing short and sharp, curled on his side but he isn’t whimpering or begging anymore and that’s something at least. I hate when they start begging, it disgusts me, the nerve of these fuckers. The nerve to beg for their own selves after they tried to hurt someone else, how big are their balls?

They see me, they see the lanky boy with the floppy hair, the boy wearing a pastel hoody with headphones hanging from his ears, with his hands in his pockets. They see me and they see no threat, they see me and they see easy money, what’s the harm in going after me? I’m wearing a mint green hoody, I’m listening to music, I’m not paying attention to my surroundings and I can’t be strong. An easy mark with easy money, college kid maybe, with mommy and daddy paying for me to stay there.

I spit to the side, wrinkling my nose at the smell of blood and sweat, I wipe my cheek with my sleeve and wipe my knuckles on my pants. He didn’t think I could fight, didn’t expect me to throw my weight at him when he dragged me into the alley because he’s an idiot. He thought he could hold his knife to my neck and demand anything he wanted from me, he thought he could smack me around a little bit and get that easy money.

Isn’t it enough that I’m here in this country I never wanted to come to, living a life I never fucking wanted? Do I have to put with homophobic piece of shit criminals too? Do I have to watch my back everywhere I go not just for the Japanese government after me or the yakuza members who are definitely still looking?

I sigh at the thought, glance down at the man curled up on his side and pull out my phone. I don’t use the camera for much these days, I don’t take pictures of myself or even of the things I see but it’s as good a mirror as I have right now. There’s a stray speck of blood on my cheek and there’s a bruise purpling on my cheekbone, my hair is a mess. The skin of my knuckles are split where I punched the asshole in the face, I knew better but what’s the point of a fight if you don’t ache a little bit after?

…

I’ll have to hide this from Frank, get concealer for my face and make sure he doesn’t see my hands until I’ve come up with a good enough excuse. I can just imagine the look on his face, the worry and the need to do anything to make it better. He’s an asshole too but he can be so kind sometimes, it’s strange to see him trying to be helpful, strange and nice. I’m almost smiling, almost willing to forget the man curled at my feet and ready to leave him there.

“F-fuck you, fag,” the fucker spits, literally spits, there’s mucus and blood on my shoe and he’s sneering up at me. I don’t glare at him, I don’t say a word but I do look with eyes half lidded and bored. I look at him, this pathetic cumstain of a man, and I wonder about his lack of self-preservation skills.

He’s on the ground because of me, he’s bleeding because of me. He’s got a cut on his neck from his own knife because I know how to handle knives, he’s lying on the floor of a filthy alley with his own knife in his thigh because I could fight. He should be trying to stay as quiet as he can, waiting for me to leave, waiting until it’s safe enough to crawl away.

Instead he’s pulling this shit and maybe, maybe if this week was going well and maybe if Frank was home waiting for me, and maybe if I wasn’t in this fucking city with people who don’t speak my language then maybe I would leave him there. Maybe, maybe not, I’m not sure but I’m already kicking him in the ribs, kicking until I feel something break and he makes a sound between a shriek and a wheeze. I don’t stop though, I know he won’t die from this, broken ribs and punctured lungs won’t be enough to kill him and knowing that makes me angrier.

Angry enough to crouch down and grab him by the hair, force him to look me in the face. His eyes are bloodshot, his teeth are stained with blood and I’m sure his nose is broken from the back of my head smashing into his face. I know it will set wrong, he won’t be able to get to a doctor soon enough to have it set properly and knowing that makes me bare my teeth at him in a smile.

“ _Don’t start fights you can’t win_ ,” I snarl at him in a language I know he doesn’t understand, he staring at me, confused and angry but I don’t give a fuck. I can smell his blood and I can smell my blood, my knuckles hurt and I’m tired of a long day that’s only getting longer.

“ _Because next time you’ll end up dead_ ,” I say and I make sure he hears every single syllable sound even if he doesn’t understand. I let go of his hair and let his head fall back onto the ground, I don’t look at him this time, I turn and leave because if I don’t, I’ll do something I might regret.

I leave him bleeding and groaning in the alley and I pull on my hood, hook my headphones over my ears and take the long way home. I don’t need to because most people don’t notice me but I do it because it puts me at ease, plus I prefer to stop at pharmacies far from the apartment. They’ll remember me less because I come to them less, they’ll ask less questions because I’m not a regular and they won’t notice much.

I buy antiseptic I don’t need and I get a bottle of cheap beer I won’t drink. I pull out my phone again while I lurk in the isles, waiting for the line to dwindle away before I join it and look around for it. They always have one, in the corners, up by the ceilings.

I don’t take pictures of myself, not often, because I can’t risk anyone recognising me in them but these are safe enough. I hold the phone in front of my face make sure my hair is covering everything else and take my picture in one of the mirrors the pharmacy has up. I look at the bloody knuckles in the picture, I see the scars on the backs of my hands and criss-crossing my fingers but I don’t see my face.

I save the picture and I pay for my things. I end up drinking the beer on the way home and spill half the antiseptic in the sink.

* * *

Bad day, it’s a bad day, a string of bad days if he was being honest with himself. Kohe doesn’t like admitting to the bad days, it’s weakness and he’s not weak, he can’t be weak after the shit he’s been through. He has to admit it this time though because it’s a fucking hell pit of a week and he just wants it to be over.

“D-do we k-k-know w-who?” he asks because he has to, he has to make sure this doesn’t happen again even though it’s not his look out. The shipment got jacked before it made it to him and Brandon knows that but everything is still tense. There are even some new people hanging around, new boys that Brandon wants to use as messengers and needs to break in, they unsettle Kohe but he doesn’t say anything.

He’s the runner, he makes sure shit gets moved from point A to point F with no questions asked and all parties satisfied. In a good week, he wouldn’t even see Brandon even if he is the man’s top runner and that’s exactly how they all like it but like he said, this isn’t a good week.

“Jerry thinks cartel but he ain’t too sure, no one else got hit,” Brandon answers and it’s bitter, usually when someone gets hit someone else would claim it. Silent hits are usually from new players who want to make a statement and move in on established territory, it’s always messy and Kohe doesn’t want anything to do with it. Brandon doesn’t either, he can tell, it’s in the uncomfortable shift of his shoulders and the pursed lips.

Kohe wants a smoke, he wants to get high maybe but he doesn’t have any xanny and Fin is out this week. He could hit up any of the others he knows but Fin is his dealer and he doesn’t exactly trust any of the people he knows, so maybe getting drunk is the better idea? He could drink his way through Frank’s ‘secret’ stash under the bed, Frank probably wouldn’t mind and Kohe would buy it back. He just, he just wants to get home as soon as he can without stopping anywhere.

“N-new people, t-t-trying to get into i-it?” he suggests with a sigh because if it is, then he’s going to lay low for a while. He isn’t getting caught up in a turf war even if it means having to find something else in the meantime, something that won’t pay as good but won’t end with him dead in a ditch.

“I’ll check, for now you can just take the week until I’m sure. Jerry’ll call you when we know,” Brandon sighs and Kohe’ll definitely need to find something. It’s not like he doesn’t have money stashed and it’s not like he can’t take the week off but he can’t stay home that long, he can’t stay still that long. He’s used to running all over the city, figuratively and literally, and it helps burn off all the anxious energy that he’s pretty much used to by now.

He doesn’t say anything though because Brandon doesn’t need to know, Kohe just nods and starts walking because he was dismissed. All things considered, being a runner is a good enough job, the hours are strange but it’s not like Kohe has much else to do with his time. He doesn’t go to college, can’t take classes even with all the ‘proper’ documents on hand, it’s too risky and he doesn’t think he could start studying again.

He’s thought about it and he’s thinking about it again as he leaves because it’d occupy his time at least. He thinks about the people he might meet and how many more drugs he would buy from Fin because college students are the reason Fin’s out right now. He wonders what Frank would say if Kohe told him about picking back up where he left off with that incomplete economics degree. He’d only need another semester’s worth of credits…technically.

“Fifty says the Jap fuck’s playing him.”

Kohe’s silent as he turns right back around and walks up to the new boy. This one looks younger than most, can’t be more than sixteen and he’s already got a whole sleeve of tattoos. He’s wearing a vest because of course he has to show off his ink and he’s wearing ripped jeans and he’s got one of the cockiest smirks on his face, the kind of cocky only children who don’t know shit can wear.

“ _I’ve seen dozens like you, bitch_ ,” Kohe tells the boy with a bright smile, tilting his head so the boy can’t see his eyes even if he tried. Brandon is sitting on the couch, probably amused and wanting to see where this goes; Brandon doesn’t know Japanese either.

“ _You get a gun in your hands and think you’re hot shit, you get some money and think this is how you make it,”_ he says conversationally, still smiling and nodding along when the boy smiles too. Brandon snorts because he doesn’t need to understand the language to know what Kohe is saying, he’s heard the tone of voice before, he’s seen Kohe do this before.

“ _When you die, no one will give a single fuck but no go ahead, insult me because you don’t know how else to look good in front of your friends_.” He makes sure to sound sympathetic, to frown just a bit before grinning wide enough to show all of his teeth and he thumbs open the blade of his knife. The boy’s laughing, glancing at the other messengers who are probably his friends and is completely at ease. Kohe wonders how the boy lived this long, knows he’s lucky he’s in America with a man like Brandon who doesn’t give a fuck.

“ _But if you ever do it again, I’ll slit your fucking throat_ ,” Kohe finishes with the same smile on his face in the same easy tone while he presses the knife to the boy’s throat. He doesn’t make eye contact because this piece of shit is nowhere near deserving of it and he keeps the knife tight against the pale throat. He thinks about the man who tried this just the other day, the one he left bleeding in the alley stabbed with his own weapon.

Kohe snorts when the boy doesn’t even try to fight, doesn’t do anything but swallow hard and cut himself on the knife. The tiniest beads of blood form and the boy holds his breath, stops himself from moving but his nostrils keep flaring, desperate. He doesn’t make a move for his gun, he doesn’t make a move to save himself and there’s nothing but piss-your-pants fear in his eyes which is pathetic.

“ _Understand?_ ” Kohe asks and his tone is harsh and dry, there’s no geniality and understanding anymore and it more than transcends language. The boy’s mouth falls open and Kohe steps away neatly before the boy can vomit on him, he nods to Brandon, glances at the other messengers there and leaves.

* * *

 

They finally get a day together, on where Kohe didn’t have work and Frank was able to come back to the realm before it’s fucking twelve in the night. Frank’s the one to suggest they go out because why not? They were always in the apartment, filming things, watching tv, arguing with the neighbours or trying to spy on them; well that was more Frank but still.

So what if they end up in central park with no real plan? It was a nice day in the middle of Spring and there weren’t even that many people around which was always a bonus because people were cancer. They were having fun just strolling around, Frank got to tell all his horrible, inappropriate jokes and Kohe laughed at all of them. It was actually the most fun Frank could remember having in a long, long time, even better than all the collabs with Maxine and idubbbz.

He didn’t need to stick his hand in a mouse trap for a video, he didn’t need to say something funny for the camera, he got to just be himself and it was nice. He didn’t even have to ask if Kohe was having fun too because he was smiling, he was laughing, he was even comfortable enough to hold Frank’s hand. Usually he only did gay shit like that at home, when they were in his room, in the dark and no one could see, and Frank liked to think about all those times when he was alone.

Frank didn't understand them though, didn’t understand what he felt for Kohe, all those soft, warm things. When he was alone and thought of Kohe's watery smiles on cold mornings when Frank grabbed stiff hands and held them between his own, he thought about muttering under his breath about shit thermostats and about the heat in his chest as he held Kohe's hands. Frank thought about startled laughs, the choking snorts that sound way too cute whenever he told Kohe a joke; he thought about the way he tried to hear more of that laughter. He thought about lying next to each other on Kohe's bed, just lying next to each other, no talking, no words, just company.

Those were his favourite memories, even if he didn’t understand them. Whenever he went travelling through realm after realm searching, searching, searching for something he didn’t even know, that was when he thought about Kohe and felt so warm. He would run his thumb over his own knuckles the same way Kohe would do but he’d never be able to mimic it exactly. Sometimes he would close his eyes and breathe as deep as he could, pretending his nose was buried in dark-brown-enough-to-be-black hair. Sometimes he pretended Kohe was there with him in the different realm, that they were the only two people in an abandoned one, the only ones around for miles and miles.

Even if he was waist deep in a freezing river, he thought about Kohe and felt...warm. Was it friendship? Was it love? He didn't know. He’s not, he wasn’t soft, he wasn’t good, but Kohe was and Kohe liked him? If, if Kohe could like him, maybe Frank wasn't so bad? He wasn’t sure how it worked but he thought he might be right, that even if he's a complete asshole there had to be something good in him to attract someone as amazing as Kohe.

[“ _And then I just took the damn gun away from him and shot the fuck_ ,”](http://nawh.tumblr.com/post/155750616674/im-in-deep-now-boys) Frank snorted and he’d settle for a mostly empty park if he could get it and he was getting it. He still wasn’t sure how a place like central park could be so empty, even in the middle of the week but whatever. If sitting in Central Park in the tail end of winter was the way to bring Kohe’s low mood back up then fuck it. Kohe was worth fighting all of Chin Chin’s remaining servant, he was more than worth sitting around in a thin, bloody stained shirt while it was cold as balls outside.

“ _What about the fire_?” Kohe hiccupped, leaning into Frank for support so he wouldn’t fall over and Frank was too busy laughing to answer. They were on the ground, underneath some tree and even if they weren’t holding hands anymore, they were still leaning against each other and touching and laughing. They were even speaking in Japanese even though they were in public and Kohe preferred English because it helped him fit in better.

Personally Frank didn’t give a fuck but this wasn’t about him and he would speak whatever Kohe wanted him to. Especially when Kohe didn’t stutter and stammer and wasn’t as self-conscious about his Japanese as he was about his English. Even if it was perfect, Kohe still worried about it and Frank found it equal parts adorable and sad, he’d never say that out loud though and he sure as hell wouldn’t say it to Kohe.

“ _How the fuck are you still alive?”_ Kohe gasped between laughing and Frank didn’t even have an answer, he couldn’t even think of one. He was too busy watching Kohe’s eyes squinch up from laughing so hard and he could feel the blush on Kohe’s cheeks because they were so close and he could hear the little stutter in his breath as he fought for air. Frank was pretty sure this was what love felt like; sitting in the grass and laughing about a near death experience.

“Learn some fucking English!”

Frank’s head snapped up so fast he would’ve worried about whiplash if he wasn’t ready to cap a bitch. His mouth was open, the words already on his tongue but he didn’t even get the chance to breathe in.

“F-Fuck you, you ignorant s-slut!” Kohe snarled, stumbling over some of the words but sounding pissed off enough for it to not matter. Frank had never heard Kohe sound like this though, not even when Frank brought home the rats or when he set the kitchen table on fire or even when he almost fell off the roof. This was, this was passionless anger, there was heat in his words but it was-it wasn’t.

Kohe sounded like a completely different person, not the shy boy with the sly smiles. Frank didn’t even glance at his side, at the person next to him because he was pretty sure if he did, he would kiss him right then and there. Shit, Frank was sure he’d try to fuck Kohe right there if he could, if Kohe gave him the smallest excuse. He couldn’t even decide if it was better or worse that Kohe wasn’t even shouting and that his voice was just as low as it’d been when they were talking.

“L-Learn some fucking res-spect!” Kohe added and the man, a white fuck of course, looked so shocked and Frank could understand. Well no, not really, this asshole was shocked because Kohe could speak English, Frank was ready to cum in his pants because Kohe sounded fucking hot when he was angry. Something Frank filed carefully away for late night and early morning reflection then got up.

Kohe didn’t ask any questions and Frank still wasn’t looking at him but he was pretty fucking sure Kohe was glaring at the man. So he was definitely surprised when he finally turned and Kohe was looking at him, head titled up and lips set in a neutral line and Frank wanted to kiss him again.

“ _McDonald’s_?” he suggested in fucking Japanese because he fucking could.

“ _If you sing the rap again, I’ll hurt you_ ,” Kohe joked even if his voice was a little flat and Frank has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from saying something stupid like “Can I kiss you?” or “Please let me suck your cock”.

“Kinky,” he said instead, grinning like an ass and grinning wider when Kohe punched his arm.

* * *

 

They’re trying to figure out what the fuck IG texted when doors start slamming next door. They hear the front door because it’s the loudest and they know what it sounds like, then another door, maybe a bedroom because it’s almost muffled, again, again, _bang_ , **_bang_**. They stop trying to decipher IG’s ten thousand emojis and mixed in letters to listen to the banging because it’s unusual, it’s unusual as fuck. Kohe’s been living in the apartment next door for nearly four months now and Frank’s been there for at least two and neither of them have ever started slamming doors.

Not to say he’s quiet, because even if they come in at weird fuck times, they still hear the screaming and shouting sometimes. Fin likes to complain about it, every time they go to get their meds from him there’s something new to complain about it but he’s never said anything about banging the door. The slamming goes on for a good few minutes and doesn’t stop and they’re pretty sure the only reason no one starts shouting to shut the fuck up is that it’s two on a Thursday afternoon.

Fin is out for once, and AI’s at work, Marcella’s in class, even Cass and Dren are gone and they don’t think the downstairs neighbours ever hear the bullshit. There probably isn’t anyone else around to hear and they’re about to go over there and find out what the actual fuck is going on when it stops. There’re a few seconds of silence, then one last _bang_! and then nothing for good and maybe Frank’s gone.

They’re pretty sure it’s Frank, Kohe’s weird roommate who liked to give trash to the neighbours he’d never even met. And okay, maybe it was sweet and kind of adorable to do, giving out presents of bits and bobs, AI got a fucking rock for fuck’s sakes but it was the thought that counted right? Maybe one of these days they’d go over and say hi, one of the days they got in before twelve and after ass crack o’clock.

“Isabella what the fuck does alien, skull, banana mean?” they ask when they finally give up and call the fucker because that was IG’s plan all along. The bitch knows they don’t like talking on the phone but she refuses to text like a normal human being and it’s all part of some kind of master plan to improve their social interaction. They’re walking around the apartment as IG explains how David managed to break his ankle while singing of all things and like always, they end up out on the fire escape.

They’re so shocked to see anyone else out there, they almost slip and they _do_ smack their elbow on the glass door. Kohe’s out on his balcony, sitting on the steps and staring at his hands and they can’t help the sharp breath when they see those hands because now they understand why he wears his gloves. Even before he got the full length ones for winter, he used to wear fingerless gloves that half covered his fingers too and he would keep his hands in his hoody pockets.

[He’s there, head tilted down, hair in his eyes and his hands are up.](http://nawh.tumblr.com/post/156794722269/trying-something-new) They can see the scars, ropey and thick, lighter than the rest of his skin and even though the scars are faded, they stand out. Kohe’s staring at them and they’re staring too and they wonder how the fuck he got those, then they see the fingers that are too short and stop wondering.

Kohe’s, he’s not-he’s not the most public person, he’s private, he’s quiet and shy and Rob knows he doesn’t do the most legit shit to get his money but they’ve never had hard evidence before this. They’ve never seen him look dangerous and he looks fucking dangerous right now, even if he’s wearing pastel and even if his head is down and his shoulders and slumped and he looks sad; he still looks dangerous too.

There’s something about the set of his jaw, stubborn and determined even if the decision isn’t an easy one and they want to take a step back. His hands are scarred but they aren’t shaking, he isn’t-he isn’t-they don’t know the word, this isn’t sadness exactly this is him taking stock and remembering. There’s a simmering anger to it and they wonder if there’s a proper word for the mix of angry and sad, maybe frustrated, maybe furious, they don’t know.

They should call out to him, say something, because he’s-this is private but they can’t. IG’s asking something, saying something or the other but they don’t understand what she’s saying. Kohe’s there, in his ripped up jeans and his pastel hoody staring at his scarred up hands and-and he didn’t do those himself, he couldn’t have, right? Those don’t look right, not for-

They step back inside before Kohe notices them and pull the curtains over the glass door, they walk into their bedroom and sit down on the floor. IG’s still talking but they’re still not listening, God Kohe. They don’t pity him because fuck that noise but wow, it’s a big deal, the shy, quiet and nice guy next door’s been involved with some serious shit. Christ.

“IG, babe, quiet for a second please,” they murmur and put the phone down because they want to think about this. Should they do something? Should they own up to it? Should they…it’s two in the afternoon and it might be late for lunch but fuck it, they want to distract Kohe because the guy clearly needs it. They might not know about slashed up hands but they know about needing distractions and if he didn’t hear them smack into the door then he’s pretty into his head.

“Okay, Gwennie, I have to go now but I’ll call you later. There’s, I saw shit and I need to do some shit,” they explain as good as they can without really saying anything because IG’s their friend but this isn’t their shit to talk about. Fuck, it isn’t shit they should know but nosey neighbours and all that bullshit.

“Tomorrow, I have a date tonight, bye Rob,” and of course she has another date, probably with James even though he’s an ass…another problem for another time. Right now they’re going to deal with Kohe and whatever’s got him out on the fire escape, then they’ll deal with IG’s shit taste in men.

They don’t know if Kohe will answer the knocking, probably doesn’t think they’re home either but it doesn’t hurt to try. They knock for a good five minutes with a few breaks in between but their knuckles are still smarting by the time Kohe pulls open the door and fuck.

He looks bad, they can’t see his eyes but his mouth is set in a line and his gloves are on but the cuffs are uneven, it’s obvious he was in a hurry. He doesn’t say anything, looks over their shoulder then back inside the apartment and they know he won’t be the first one to speak.

“Did you eat yet? I was supposed to meet some people but they couldn’t make it,” they lie and it’s a bad one, all disjointed and barely making sense but Kohe doesn’t call them on it. He still doesn’t say anything actually, he just kept looking past them and they can work with that at least.

“We could go get something, I’ll order if you don’t want to talk,” they add because they know that speaking right now might not be something he can do. They don’t-they don’t know Kohe very well because he isn’t a classmate and their times are so different but they like him, he’s quiet and very nice. He’s not their friend exactly but he’s their neighbour and right now they probably know a little too much about him but they won’t say it, it’s not something they’ll ever ask him about.

“N-not McD-D,” he grits his teeth on the word, ducks his head and shoves his hands in his pockets but they see the clench of fists. He came home slamming doors, Kohe not Frank, he was mad maybe? Something happened probably?

“Subway maybe? Or pizza, we could get donuts and call it lunch, I mean we’re young enough right?” they try to joke, forcing a smile but not getting in his space. IG says they have a talent of using bad jokes to make people feel less like shit and they really hope that’s not just IG talking shit again. Kohe keeps his head ducked for a while but they don’t step away, they want to sway from side to side but they stay still.

“We can go on a sugar rush and pretend Fin’s not out, and after can you show me how to grow succulents? Your uh-one looks really nice,” they finish lamely but this whole thing is lame. They’ve never wanted to grow a plant in their entire life but they know Kohe’s succulents are some of the things that make him happy, he waters them twice every week and talks to them in Japanese. [They’ve seen him, lots of times, stroking the leaves and whispering things to his plants, smiling while he waters them.](http://nawh.tumblr.com/post/156643160574/im-tired-of-drawing-this-so-here-i-might-finish)

“Y-yes, t-thank you, I-I-I mean ok-kay,” he corrects himself, biting each word and forcing it out but they don’t mention it. They smile as brightly as they can when they remember him slamming the doors and staring at his hands like they belonged to someone else and force themselves to not think about the whys and hows and whats. Kohe deserves his privacy and they have to respect that, they **_will_** fucking respect that.

Still, was that mad Kohe? Angry Kohe? They don’t know but well, it's still none of their business.

* * *

 

Four in the morning and it’s cold as fuck when Frank gets back to the right realm, he knows it’s the right one because Kohe’s shoes are by the door. It’s four in the morning and it’s freezing but it’s a still cold, like the whole world is asleep even the god damn atmosphere and Frank’s never sure whether it freaks him the fuck out or not.

He doesn’t expect Kohe to be awake, he expects to sneak into the bedroom and for Kohe to be there, asleep. Frank expects he can just strip down to his boxers and he can slip into bed next to Kohe, wrap his arms around the other man and thaw out the chill in his muscles. He doesn’t expect the bed to be empty and he doesn’t expect the whole room to be empty, he doesn’t even expect to hear his name called from the fire escape.

“Franku.”

Frank goes though because of course he does, why wouldn’t he? He can barely see because it’s too dark and even when he pushes the shades up onto his head, there’s barely enough light to pick his way through the kitchen. By the time he’s through the kitchen, he’s real fucking glad New York’s always got the lights on, the street lights and the billboards even if he can’t see the colours. He stops though, he doesn’t climb out onto the fire escape because there’s something, something in the air.

“Franklin,” Kohe hisses but his back is to Frank and [Frank can see the way he’s hugging himself, see the tips of black gloved fingers digging into his arms.](http://nawh.tumblr.com/post/156869006749/star-boy) Kohe’s…hugging himself, holding himself together or back, Frank doesn’t know. There’s the same tension in Kohe’s voice from when he was cursing at the guy in the park and Frank’s just as confused now.

“F-fucking s-s-say something,” Kohe spits and he’s angry, he sounds angry, he sounds furious and Frank really fucking wonders what happened while he was gone but he stays quiet. He knows Kohe isn’t mad at him, even if he wants to instantly defend himself, he knows it’s not about him. Maybe if it was anyone else he’d tell them to get fucked but this is Kohe, his roommate and the first friend he’s ever had and he doesn’t think getting mad too will help anything. Besides, they’ve gotten enough noise complaints from Fin already, they don’t need anymore.

“G-Go ahead! Make f-fun of my s-stutter because it m-means I can’t s-s-speak English right!” Kohe shouts, actually shouts and Frank takes a step back because he’s so shocked, so shocked and a little bit turned on, fear always does that. He hears the sharp breath, the air hissing between teeth and Kohe moves a little, a little rocking and his fingers are digging harder into the meat of his arms.

Frank swallows, swallows hard because he can’t see much in the kitchen but there’s so much light outside on the fire escape and Kohe’s silhouetted by it, he’s fucking haloed in it. He’s standing with perfect posture, arms wrapped around himself and Frank would do anything to see Kohe’s face right now but he knows better, he thinks he does. If he makes a move, if he gets too close, Kohe will go off and he isn’t sure he wants more than the little taste he’s getting here.

“T-tell me I l-look like a little f-f-fag! B-because I like wearing p-pretty colours and I’m skinny,” Kohe yells and his voice is raw, he sounds like the creatures Frank’s run from before. He feels like running now, not because Kohe will hurt him but it’s so ingrained in him, when something sounds that angry move because you don’t want it anywhere near you.

Frank stays though because those were animals, creatures from other realms who wanted to fucking eat him and this is Kohe. The guy who’s had every single excuse to fucking smother him in his sleep and get rid of the body, the guy who’s had to deal with every single piece of shit he’s pulled in the last three months. Kohe found _him_ , Kohe asked **_him_** to be his roommate and Kohe lets **_Frank_** see his hands the way no one else gets to.

Fuck if he was being sentimental and shit, Kohe gave him his name. Kohe thought Frank stood for Franklin and not Francis, Kohe was the first person to give him something to distinguish himself.

“Or t-t-th, fuck! I-I’m a-a thief, y-yeah? I’m the o-one who steals s-shit because I’m n-not white, and I-I’m the o-one who, who,” the rough yells taper off and Frank hears every shuddering breath. He doesn’t smell salt though and he doesn’t taste tears in his mouth, Kohe’s shaking, holding himself tight enough to bruise and shaking hard enough to fall apart.

That’s when Frank moves, that’s when he gets closer. He climbs out onto the fire escape but he doesn’t say anything, he looks at Kohe’s face and sees those eyes for once because the hair is pushed back out of them. Kohe’s…angry, his teeth are clenched tight enough to start a tick in his jaw even if his lips are set in a neutral line, almost a pout, but Frank knows he wants to say more but is stopping himself.

In the dark, he can’t see the flush on Kohe’s cheeks but when he reaches to brush a piece of hair away from Kohe’s nose, he feels the heat. He sees the bob of Kohe’s Adam’s apple every time he swallows, probably swallowing down those words even if they stuck in his throat and fester there.

In the dark, Frank can’t see Kohe’s eyes in their entirety but he sees the coldness there because anger for Kohe isn’t warmth and heat and passion, it’s cold detachment. For Kohe, anger is the cold that locks his joints and makes his bones ache, anger is the cold that freezes all of his emotions and keeps him from looking too close at anything. Frank understand why Kohe speaks when he’s angry, why he doesn’t shout and rant and scream, even if he just did but Frank thinks that was a special case.

Kohe doesn’t look at him, he doesn’t look at anything, even when the grip on his own arms lessens until his hands are just holding on, he doesn’t say anything. He stares out into the middle ground distance and stands in the cold, his lips stay set in an almost pout and his eyes look glazed over instead of frosted. Frank wonders what he’s thinking about then he doesn’t because it doesn’t really matter.

He thinks about saying something, maybe about how good Kohe looks right now, arms around himself and eyes bright and bold. He thinks about mentioning the way the light’s playing off his hair, the almost black hair and wonders if Kohe would know what he means. Frank sees the world in black and white after all even if it didn’t start out that way but he compensates for the lack of colour in different ways.

He doesn’t see the exact colour of Kohe’s hair but he sees stars in the way the harsh neon of the bar across the street catches in the dark strands, he sees them twinkle when the breeze ruffles Kohe’s hair. He doesn’t know how dark the freckles dusting Kohe’s cheekbones are but he doesn’t think it matters when they’re just a shade or two darker for him and looks like angel dust smattered across the soft skin.

Frank can’t see the colour of Kohe’s eyes but he can see the depth in them, he can just barely see the emotion locked up in them and knows that Kohe’s eyes are just as otherworldly as his own, even if Kohe’s completely human. There’s something…magical about eyes like those although that might be Frank being a sappy son of a bitch.

He thinks about lighting up a cig but thinks better of it. They’re out on the fire escape, standing together and maybe not enjoying each other’s company exactly but does it really matter? It can’t all be rainbows and gumdrops and all that gay romantic shit, sometimes it’s waiting out the storm and counting the seconds between the booms and the flashes.

Frank wonders if it means anything that he’s just as attracted to the ice cold rain as he is to the rainbows then he stops because it doesn’t fucking matter.


End file.
